


Season of Love

by greerian



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Christianity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forgiveness, M/M, Post-Canon, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:02:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerian/pseuds/greerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor hasn't been to church in a very, very long time. Edited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Season of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a motherfucking roll, people! Seriously though, this is my fourth piece in about a week, and it's an incredibly sweet and fluffy little piece that I hope my fellow McPriceley shippers love. 
> 
> If you are Mormon and any of this is incorrect, I apologize. I did my best to ensure accuracy in Kevin's sermon and subsequent statements. The inspiration for the church service and everything else in this fic comes from four separate churches I have attended: A LDS church in Colorado, a Church of Christ in Georgia, a non-denominational church in the midwest, and a 1st Presbyterian service with a female minister.  
> The characters Ariana, Ovet, and Little Kev are all inspired by people in my life.  
> Kevin's beliefs are not indicative of mine.

“And, congregation, I ask you: why shouldn’t we all love each other? What good does it do you to hate? Do you ever just stop and think about how hard it is to keep hating every day? I used to try that. Yes, I, the great Kevin Price, used to hate. I know, I know, it’s unbelievable. But, I did. There was someone who hurt me when I was still young and dumb and thought that I could single-handedly change the world. And, I decided that I was going to hate him. I was going to hate him even more than the man who raped me, or the church who ruined my life, or the mission companion who was keeping me from my destiny. Ha, yeah, let me tell you, nineteen-year-old me was really a character. But, all that hating kept me from realizing that he was hurting as much as I was, if not more. It took me a good two years, years that I wasted on hating his guts, to realize that I really just wanted him to like me. How, how ridiculous is that? I wasted so much energy, so much time, and so much of myself on someone that didn’t treat me with all the respect and affection I wanted.

“And yes, to this day I regret those two years. But what I don’t regret is how they led me back to Heavenly Father and what that choice, to finally let go of my hate, has given me. Because, without those years, I wouldn’t have you guys. My wonderful, supportive congregation, in this beautiful town. And, really, I love you guys, all of you, too much to see you all waste your lives on hating, the way I did. I’m only thirty-six now, but why would I want to waste anymore time? Life is short, and in the eternal scheme of things, I, well, all of us, are blips on the radar. Do you want your blip to be one of hatred and anger? No, congregation, I can tell you that you _don’t_. And Heavenly Father doesn’t want that for you, either: in the oft-quoted Jeremiah 29:11, He says that he has plans for you. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” He has plans for you, church! He wants peace, and _happiness_ _,_ for each and everyone one of you. Don’t you see? Heavenly Father is a God of love, and love is His plan for you.

“Let us pray, and then we’ll be dismissed.”

Connor McKinley’s hands are shaking as he folds them and bows his head to pray, and Kevin Price leads his church in prayer. He doesn’t follow any sort of formula, that much is obvious, but his words remind the former district leader of the times, years before, when they had just been boys stuck in Kitguli, Uganda, told to preach the word of Joseph Smith without knowing if they themselves believed in it, and Kevin had been the one to keep them going with his speeches that showed them just how beautiful a latter-day could be.

He almost didn’t come to the service today; he’d been putting it off for over a month, but he knew he couldn’t avoid Kevin forever. His conscience had been torturing him with the fact that his job brought him to a little town in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Colorado, and that his new home just happened to be less than half an hour from where Kevin Price preached every Sunday. But... could he ever face Kevin after what he had done to him?

So he had put it off week after week, until he saw that the title of this Sunday’s sermon was ‘Jesus Loves You (Yes, You)' and he just knew that if he didn’t do it now he’d never show up.

That was how the slim redhead found himself slipping into the back pew of the first church he’d been in since they fought, almost fifteen years ago. It was a cute little building, dated but clean, with floral curtains at the windows and a small steeple and a little old lady in a pastel pantsuit greeting you at the door. He had tried to arrive late, to avoid the inevitable greetings between the church regulars that would congregate in the hallways and the awkward ‘hello’s and ‘glad to have you with us’s from strangers, but a few people managed to give him friendly pats on the back and warm smiles anyways as the pianist at the front began to play ‘Jesus Paid it All’.

The routine was eerily familiar, and he had almost decided that it would better to just leave when Kevin, brilliant, beautiful Kevin, had come up to the podium and welcomed everyone with a wide smile.   
Connor was infinitely grateful in that moment that the church had a balcony and that he was mostly hidden in its shadow, because Kevin the preacher seemed to want to make eye contact with every single person in the congregation. And then he had started speaking, and Connor had been captivated from the start. How was he supposed to know that Kevin would talk about him today? That he would say those things, and that he would forgive him, up there, behind that podium, with that beaming smile wishing only good things on everyone in the world?

Would he have still come, if he had known what Kevin was going to say? He doesn’t know, and, as the tears well up in his burning eyes and the soft prayer washes over him, he doesn’t really care. He heard it, and now all can do is wait. The service ends, Kevin holding out his hands in benediction and saying “May God’s love be upon you all,” and Connor stays in his seat as everyone slowly files out, commenting on what a wonderful job their preacher did that day, and on whether they’re going to meet with the Jones’ for lunch and on how cousin Susanne in Castle Rock is doing, and he just watches Kevin Price as the man smiles and shakes hands and prays with whoever comes up to him, and it hurts so much to watch because this incredible person would do the same for him, with him; he says that he’s forgiven him. Suddenly, wiping his eyes, he stands and walks down the center aisle, straight towards where the preacher is talking with someone.

“Kevin,” he calls. “Kevin Price?”

He wishes he could describe the look on Kevin's face when he first meets his eyes. At first his warm, genuine smile softens, then falls, then he’s gaping in astonishment and there’s not a trace of resentment in his voice when he says “Connor?”

And everyone who’s still in the sanctuary stops and stares but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care anymore because Kevin isn't angry and there’s a smile on his face like he can hardly believe what he’s seeing and he just repeats “Connor” like it’s the most beautiful word in the world, and Connor feels stupid and awkward and like he's a turning-it-off teenager again but he waves sheepishly anyway and Kevin grins and says “It’s good to see you again. Come to my office, will you? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

*****

They’re hardly behind the closed door before Kevin sweeps him up into a warm hug.

“I missed you,” he says, and Connor starts to cry again. “But how’ve you been?” Kevin sits back into his faux leather chair, offering him a plush armchair and candy like he’s a an old man and Connor's his grandchild and they're not both in their thirties.

“I… I’m a stockbroker,” he confesses, like it’s a crime or a sin, and Kevin makes a sympathetic face. He knows better than anyone that Connor never wanted to be a businessman, how much he hated the numbers and the sales and how cold and calculating everything is. And Connor knows, in turn, just how much Kevin wanted to share his beliefs with the world, if he ever found them for himself. Look at them both now. “I live just… just half an hour away; my company just moved me out here. I never thought I’d see you again, Kevin, but then somebody mentioned your name and said you were one of the best preachers they’d ever heard, that the liberal Mormonism movement was really something and I should check it out, and… and here I am. I…”

“You heard my sermon,” Kevin finishes for him, and he nods, watching the surface of the desk as if it would tell him what he wanted to hear. “You know, I really felt that Heavenly Father wanted me to share that story again today, and I almost didn’t, but I should have known that He always has a good reason for what He does.” Connor doesn’t reply, and Kevin sighs, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. “I always wanted to be able to say that to you,” he admits softly. “I wanted you to know that I forgave you.”

“Why?” Connor asks, in a broken whisper; he wants to yell, to make Kevin angry and fiery and passionate, because that's the Kevin he knows and that's the reaction he can deal with, but he's still crying, dammit, and his voice can't be raised beyond this pathetic whimper. “I don't understand. I humiliated you. I… I was horrible to you. Why would you forgive me?”

Kevin smiles, and Connor tries in vain to keep his shoulders from shaking. “You outed me in front of my church, yes, and you blamed me for making you turn it on again, but nothing beyond that was your fault. You didn’t know how my parents would react, did you? You didn’t know all the doubt I was dealing with. And, Connor, even if you did, it would still be okay. Because I loved you then, and… well. God’s forgiveness isn’t about what you do; it's about His love for his people, and the people they love. When I realized that God is above everything that happened to me, and that He would love me no matter what, I just… I realized that I never actually hated you.”

Connor weeps. He bawls like a baby in this strange, cramped, triangular office and he’s never felt so pathetic in his life before but _god_ , does he need this. He needed Kevin to say that it is all okay, no matter how big of a lie it is.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he manages to say at some point. “I really shouldn’t…”

“Shh,” Kevin replies comfortingly. Coming around the desk, he crouches next to Connor’s chair and rests a hand on his back. “Remember what you promised, back in Uganda? You were gonna let your feelings out. It’s okay.”

He looks different, up close, Connor notices. His teeth are yellowed, probably from drinking too much coffee, and there’s faint wrinkles on his formerly smooth skin, but the wrinkles are creased at the corners of his eyes and at around his mouth and he looks so much happier and nicer with them that Connor doesn’t really know what to think. He himself has seen the beginning of the furrow in his brow, the pinched lines between his eyes, and he had almost cried when he found his first grey hair.

Neither of them look like the fresh-faced boys they used to be, but with Kevin he finds he doesn’t mind the change at all.

“You… you look nice,” he finds himself saying, and promptly buries his face in his hands because who _says_ that?

But the pastor just laughs, standing and offering him a tissue from the box on his desk. “Thank you. I’d say the same for you, but I doubt you’d believe me. Is that right?”

It wouldn’t do him any good to lie; Kevin would see right through it, even after all this time, so Connor nods sheepishly. 

"Well, Connor, I… it is very nice to see you again. There’s something I’d like to say, eventually, but I don’t think it would be best to say it right now, so how about I tell you about Arnold and Naba? I don’t believe you’ve been in contact with them?”

His voice is soothing as he talks about how his former mission companion had married the African woman and how they’re both thriving down in Denver, where Arnold is a high school counsellor and Nabalungi is a social worker, and while they’re poor as dirt they’re both happy, content, and thrilled to have yet another little one on the way. The preacher proudly hands him a framed photo from of his desk, featuring the two with their two children, embracing outside of their shabby townhouse.

“They sent me that just last week,” he comments, replacing the photo neatly alongside the others, all set in obviously handmade glitter-covered and marker painted popsicle stick frames.

Tentatively, Connor reaches out and turns one to him, flinching slightly when he sees it’s a picture of Kevin posing Charlie’s angels style with a young Latina woman. The one next to it shows his old friend crouched next to two little boys, their hair as dark as night, as the three of them grin up into the camera.

“Are… are these your kids?” he asks, having to clear his throat halfway through.

“What? Oh, no, those are Ovet and Kevin. We call him Little Kev, usually, for convenience's sake. They’re Ariana’s kids,” Kevin explains, gesturing to the woman in the first photo. “She’s… well, she works here, now, but actually we met when she tried to, um, solicit me one night as I was walking home. It was a little awkward when I declined, but I don’t know, we sort of hit it off and now we’re friends. She’s really great, and she cleans the church for us.”

Connor laughs; of course Kevin would make friends with a prostitute.

“That’s really sweet of you,” he says, subconsciously brushing the tip of his finger across Kevin's smiling face in the second picture. Suddenly, he realizes that his longing is painfully evident on his face. He sits up sharply and clears his throat, fighting the blush that’s working it’s way up to his ears. “S-so, uh… um.”

But Kevin just says his name, soft and sweet, and Connor meets his eyes, embarrassed as he is. The other man is smiling hopefully, and he takes the redhead’s hand.   
“Connor, the thing I wanted to say is, well… and, I apologize if this sounds awkward, but with the way you looked at that picture, I… I can hope." He chuckles softly, glancing away, and it's the first sign Connor's seen this whole time that the other man might be nervous. "I guess I haven't worked all my impulsiveness out yet. But what I’m trying to ask, to _say_ , is… even after, after everything, I think I… no, I do still love you. And, if you’re going to be in the area for a while, I was wondering if, perhaps, you’d like to try and make something work.” The words take Connor’s breath away, and Kevin stumbles on. “I understand if you say no. After all, it has been a while, but there really hasn’t been anyone else in my life. And this congregation, they won’t care, I promise. While we are Mormons, we understand that the scriptures can be taken a little less than literally. The important thing for us is Heavenly Father’s love, and, well, love is what brings us closer to Him, right? God doesn’t care if we’re both men. He just cares about us being happy, and us coming closer to Him. You’re a good guy, Connor, you and I both know that, and I believe that being gay isn’t a sin. It’s just… it’s Heavenly Father’s way of making us a little more… incredible.” His smile grows heartbreakingly sweet, then, and Connor almost curses as he feels tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes again. “So… would you like to come to dinner with me tonight?”

For a moment, Connor is struck by how calm Kevin seems to be. When he knew him before, he was impatient, fiery, a blazing ball of anxious enthusiasm. The Kevin he used to know would have hardly given him a moment to answer before asking “Please? Please, Connor, you have to give us another chance,” or saying something to try and convince him. And the old Connor would have been suspicious and overwhelmed and would have run away so he could have a minute to _think,_ but now…

“Y-yes, please,” he says, smiling faintly. Because now isn’t the time for gushing apologies and years of regrets. ‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose’, says the Lord, and the time for sorrow and guilt is over. “I… I love you, too, Kevin.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos/comments, or shoot me a message at greerian.tumblr.com.


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